**Chapter 1: The Irresistible Pull**
The garage smelled of oil and metal, a sanctuary of grit where Riley spent her days wrenching on bikes and bantering with the boys. At 38, she was a tomboy through and through—cropped chestnut hair, a leather jacket that had seen better days, and a smirk that could cut glass. She didn’t do soft. She didn’t do sweet. But then *he* walked in.
Elliot was barely 18, a femboy with doe eyes and a shy smile that could melt glaciers. His pastel sweater hung loose on his slight frame, and his nervous fidgeting as he approached her workbench made Riley’s chest tighten in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
“Uh, hi… Riley, right? I-I heard you’re the best with bikes. Mine’s making this weird noise…” His voice was a soft lilt, almost musical, and it grated on her nerves how much she wanted to hear more of it.
Riley wiped her hands on a rag, eyeing him up and down. “Weird noise, huh? What, did you run over a kitten with it?” Her tone was sharp, but her hazel eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement.
Elliot blushed, cheeks blooming pink. “N-no! I’d never! I just… I don’t know much about this stuff. I thought maybe you could… teach me?”
She snorted, crossing her arms. “Teach you? Kid, I don’t babysit. But fine, roll it in. Let’s see what kinda mess you’ve made.”
As Elliot wheeled his beat-up scooter into the garage, Riley couldn’t help but notice the way his hips swayed just slightly, the innocent grace of him. It was infuriating. She wanted to grab him, pull him close, and squeeze until that fragile sweetness shattered under her grip. Not to hurt him—no, never that—but to *feel* him, to protect that purity with every rough edge she had.
“Alright, let’s hear this ‘weird noise,’” she said, kneeling beside the scooter. Her tone was gruff, but her gaze kept darting to his slender fingers as he pointed at the engine.
“It’s like a… a whine? Kinda high-pitched,” Elliot mumbled, crouching next to her. Their shoulders brushed, and Riley felt a jolt, her jaw tightening.
“High-pitched, huh? Kinda like you,” she shot back, smirking as she caught his flustered expression. “Relax, kid. I’m just messin’ with ya. Now, start it up.”
The engine sputtered to life, and sure enough, there was a whine. But Riley barely heard it over the thrum in her own veins. Elliot was too close, his scent—something soft, like lavender—mixing with the garage’s harsh tang. She wanted to bury her face in his neck, to hold him so tight he’d gasp for air.
“See? There it is!” Elliot said, oblivious to the storm brewing in her. “Can you fix it?”
“Oh, I can fix a lot of things,” Riley murmured, her voice dropping low as she stood, towering over him. Her hand twitched, itching to grab him. “But you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that, kid. Those big eyes are gonna get you in trouble.”
Elliot blinked up at her, confused but curious. “Like… like what?”
“Like you’re beggin’ to be hugged ‘til you pop,” she growled, stepping closer. Her hands hovered near his shoulders, restraint fraying. “You’re too damn cute for your own good. Makes me wanna wrap you up and never let go.”
His breath hitched, but a small, daring smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe… maybe I wouldn’t mind that.”
That was it. The thread snapped. Riley’s hands shot out, pulling him into her chest with a force that made him yelp. Her arms locked around him, strong and unyielding, as she buried her face in his hair. “You’re gonna regret sayin’ that, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice rough with need. His body pressed against hers, soft and warm, and she could feel her control slipping, her desire to crush him with affection morphing into something hotter, hungrier.
Elliot squirmed, but not to escape—his hands clutched at her jacket, his voice a breathless murmur. “Riley… you’re so strong. I—I like it.”
Her grip tightened, a low chuckle rumbling in her throat. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” She tilted his chin up, her lips hovering over his, the air between them crackling. She was gonna devour him, right here in this grimy garage, and she didn’t care who heard the moans that were about to spill from that pretty mouth of his.
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